


A Study in Fellowship (Late Night Conversations)

by DrowningInStarlight



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Appreciate George Cubbins, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holding Hands, Hot Chocolate, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Lockwood is a sweetheart, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Pov Lucy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 09:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/DrowningInStarlight
Summary: Every agent is familiar with nightmares. They are just part of the job, another thing to contend with after a long night's work. Sometimes, they get too much to bear alone...Lucy has a nightmare, Lockwood has one too. They meet in the kitchen at four am, and... Well, it would be rude to leave the other by themselves, wouldn't it?





	A Study in Fellowship (Late Night Conversations)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm well aware the nightmares & and hurt/comfort is a very well used trope in this fandom, but hey, there's a reason for that, it's amazing! So here is my take on nightmares, hand holding, and Locklyle. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to our overlord, Jonathan Stroud, for creating such a wonderful world, with such lovely characters. 
> 
> Enjoy :D

_The darkness was heavy, and I was alone. The tunnels were slimy and smelled of damp, and I kept slipping, I couldn't see where to put my feet. I didn't know where I was, I'd fallen or... or something, I couldn't remember. Why couldn't I remember? I kept going, staggering and sliding, unable to tell if I was making any progress at all. Who knew how far the tunnels went? I didn't, and yet I could feel they stretched on and on and on--_

_Wait. What was that? A noise, a shout. A voice that I recognised._

_"Lockwood!" My voice sounded strange in my ears. "I'm here!"_

_And suddenly he was there too, and I wanted to run forward and hug him, or shake his hand, or anything, but somehow I couldn't make my body move._

_"Hello, Lucy. So, you survived," Lockwood said, his voice careless and cold. "Of course you did. Pity... You aren't going to like what happens next. You aren't going to like what happens to_ me."

_What's happening, I tried to say, Lockwood, what's happening? But I couldn't speak. It felt like I was moving through treacle, thick and cloying._

_I tried to run, and found suddenly that I could. I took two steps forward. But as I approached, the fear returned, and suddenly I didn't want to look up. I forced myself to listen, to hear and understand the harsh rattling breaths that could only come from a corpse, a revenant, the unquiet dead._

_Lockwood._

_I looked up. I screamed, or tried too, reaching for a non-existent rapier-- Why didn't I have my rapier? But I was too slow, and the thing that had once been Lockwood came closer and closer, horrible rotted face leering in the darkness--_

 

And I hit the floor, breathing hard. I was up in an instant, scrabbling for the rapier which was, in reality, always close by-- But the room was quiet, exactly as it had been when I'd gone to bed. Clothes on the floor, my drawing things and the Fittes manual on the little desk, a biscuit tin on the rug, empty except for a few crumbs. 

I listened, and then I _listened_ , but I still heard nothing, just the faint sound of George snoring drifting from his bedroom. Normal. Everything sounded normal. It was just dream. I'm embarrassed about how long it took me to fully believe that. 

I let out a sigh, and begun to dig around in my laundry pile for some clothes. I knew from experience that after a nightmare like that, there would be no returning to peaceful sleep, so I might as well get up, make some tea or something. Anything other than lying in bed, staring restlessly at the ceiling.  
I found my dressing gown, and pulled it on. It was too big for me really, it had been George's at one point, but the material had given him a rash, so I'd got it. It comforted me. 

 

***

 

The kitchen was dark, dappled with moonlight. I crept across the floor, and put on the little light next to the kettle. The clock on the wall said quarter to four, and I almost sighed again. Typical, I had a case tomorrow, I was going to be dead on my feet. Possibly literally. 

Very soon, the kettle was on and I'd left the little patch of light to dig around on the table, trying to find where George had stashed the biscuit tin, before remembering I'd eaten them the previous night-- When I heard a sound. I spun round at once, facing the kitchen door, my rapier, which I'd brought with me, outstretched and ready.

"Who's there?" I asked, and despite my sudden fear, my voice was steady. I was proud of that.

"Hello, Lucy." Lockwood peered round the door. When he noticed my rapier, shining silver in the moonlight, he looked concerned. "Is everything OK?" 

I'd frozen. "Don't come any closer," I said. _Because nothing feels real at four in the morning and you could be a monster, please god don't be a monster--_ My hands shook slightly, palms sweaty on the rapier's hilt. 

Lockwood put his hands up, looking confused beyond belief.

"Luce... OK, I'm just going too-- No, it's okay, I won't come any closer..."

He reached across and suddenly the kitchen was filled with bright light. It illuminated all the details that had previously been lost in shadow, Lockwood's hair, messy from sleep, and his pajamas. Fluffy slippers. A moment passed. The kettle boiled loudly.

I dropped the rapier. " _Damn_ it," I cursed, " _Damn_ it _all_..." I reached for it, but it had skittered under the table. I crouched down and grabbed it, but put it on the table. I knew now that it was really him, not some horrifying dream figment-- No ghost would manifest in such shamefully fluffy slippers. Of course it was really him, this was 35 Portland Row, his _house_...

_You're an idiot, Lucy Carlyle, such a damn idiot._

I met his gaze. "Lockwood, I'm so sorry, I don't... I'm sorry." My cheeks were red, I knew it, it felt like my whole body was just one boiling lump of embarrassment. Why is it _always_ Lockwood I act stupid in front of? Why couldn't it be George for once, his endless teasing wasn't anywhere near as bad as Lockwood's polite confusion.

"You pulled a rapier on me," Lockwood said, sounding just a tiny bit dazed. "Lucy, I know sometimes I'm not the most approachable employer, but I rather hoped if you have a problem, we could solve it together, rather than resorting to attempting murder in the kitchen at four in the morning." 

I choked. "I wasn't... I mean, yeah right, if I was going to murder you, I'd probably poison your doughnuts or something, rather than... this." 

"Good to know," Lockwood said seriously. "Perhaps I should hire George to be my taster."

"I think he'd do more than taste," I replied. "He'd probably run tests on them, knowing him. Eating tests."

Lockwood smiled fondly. "What would we do without George, eh?" 

"Die a lot more," I suggested, then I turned and wrenched the kettle off the heat, stopping the whistling which had gradually been getting louder and louder. Anything to stop looking at Lockwood, with his messy hair and sort seriousness, which I suspected was his way of trying to lessen my obvious embarrassment. I grabbed a mug, then hesitated.

"You want anything?" 

"What were you going to make?"

"I don't know. I just... wanted something warm."

"Fancy a hot chocolate? Oh wait, I finished the last tub, I'll just grab the next one..." 

"Hot chocolate sounds great."

 

***

 

When the hot chocolate was ready, I passed Lockwood his, then asked "Why are you here?"

"Erm, I live here? Or do you mean generally, in life..."

"No, I mean why are you here, in the kitchen, now? I swear I didn't make any noise."

We sat opposite each other, placing our mugs over one of George's diagrams and a shopping list in my scribbly handwriting. Lockwood shrugged. "I kept having nightmares. Decided to come down. Didn't realised you were here until... Well."

The fact Lockwood felt he could be honest about his nightmares made me feel slightly better. "Me too."

"Is that why you..."

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"It's OK. Can I ask..." He looked down at the thinking cloth, as if searching for a better way to express his thoughts.

"You can ask," I told him. I had nearly run him through with a rapier, I felt I owed him some kind of explanation. 

"What were you dreaming about, that I scared you so much?"

The look on my face must have told him everything he needed to know.

"Luce..."

I looked down at my hot chocolate. Strange, how I could face almost any apparition, not without fear but always with courage, but somehow making eye contact with Lockwood right then would have taken all the bravery I possessed.

"Luce, I'm never going to hurt you," he said quietly. 

"I know," I replied, "I know." _But it's not me I'm worried about, I know you wouldn't hurt me but you don't extend the same courtesy to yourself, it's you I'm worried about..._ And the words of my dream came suddenly back to me.

 _You aren't going to like what happens next. You aren't going to like what happens to_ me."

"It was just a dream," I said. "Just a dream."

There was silence for a moment, then Lockwood reached out and put his hand over mine. I jumped, and shot him a startled look, but held on. He smiled, with what I recognised as a mixture of shyness and relief. 

 

***

 

Time passed, and the sky outside slowly turned from the black of night to the grey of early morning, and neither of us made any move to go up to bed, or let go of each other's hand. Somehow, it was easier to believe Lockwood would be OK when his hand was in mine.

 

***

 

"Rise and shine, Lockwood and Co!"  
I awakened suddenly, to see George standing in the kitchen doorway, a smirk on his face. 

"I see you've been having company meetings without me," He said, opening the curtains to let the sunlight stream in. "Whatever next? I might have to befriend Kipps, mightn't I?" 

"Shut up George," Lockwood said drowsily. I tried subtly removed my hand from Lockwood's before George could notice, but it was too late.

"Oh no, I've spotted you," he said, "I've seen you holding hands. Very cosy. And _someone's_ finished the biscuits."

Lockwood leaned back and yawned, and I rubbed my eyes tiredly. Our faces were pale and wan, and George dropped the fake indignation and said "Bad night?" 

We nodded. He looked sympathetic, and said "I'll cook breakfast. Just this once, mind you, I'm not doing this every day..." 

He bustled off, and Lockwood smiled at me softly, and I smiled back. The smell of frying soon filled the air, and the sun was shining bright and clear. 

The future was coming, and anything could happen there, but... But this was now, and now? Life was good.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write something Lockwood & Co related ever since reading the books in double quick time about two months ago, and now as I'm rereading them all over again, I just couldn't resist. This was such a blast to write! 
> 
> Kudos/comments always welcome :)


End file.
